By Julia, Age 11
One day, wind sifting through my hair
I journeyed from school to home, over there.
I skipped home, no cares in the world,
But everything was about to unfurl.
I arrived home to mixed emotions
Painted on my parents’ faces in motion.
They explained, “Things aren’t safe now.”
And I squeaked out, “What’s COVID? And I know it started, but how?”
In the beginning, I was happy that at home I’d be.
But confusion eventually washed over me.
One month became two, and two became three,
And next, I was no longer in grade three.
Third grade danced away, and fourth grade arrived,
And COVID was still there, we couldn’t get on with our lives.
Still, I was the only student in my class
Who hadn’t returned, couldn’t even attend mass.
I hadn’t seen family in two years,
I’d only call friends, nothing was clear.
So, every morning, I got up at 6 o’clock.
My computer whirred alive, I joined Zoom classes, didn’t talk.
I learned complaining at school wasn’t fair.
At least, students got to go somewhere.
While I still learned and grew like everyone else,
I’d had to do it at home myself.